


If You Want It, Take It

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Asphyxiation, Butt Plugs, Choking, Club Owner Handsome Jack, Consensual Non-Consent, Established Relationship, M/M, Rape Roleplay, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Strip Dancer Rhys, rough anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Rhys is a strip dancer, Handsome Jack, his boyfriend, the club owner. After a week of Rhys refusing to sleep with Jack, the boss loses his patience right in the middle of Rhys' dance.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	If You Want It, Take It

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER ALERT: This is a CNC - Consensual Non-Consent fic, aka rape roleplay. The situation is consensual but won't look like that.
> 
> I've been wanting to write CNC for _months_ now, and after a few unsuccessful tries, I think I produced something half good! <3
> 
> Enjoy, sickos! ^.^

Rhys has been a strip dancer for three years now. He is the star of the Helios Club, the one whose name stands in big letters on every poster and advertisement. Right next to Handsome Jack’s.

Handsome Jack. Rich, successful, powerful, handsome and notoriously known as someone who is not to be messed with. He basically owns the whole city through connections, indebted people and threats. The club is most precious to him, though, with its great alcohol and the sexy star.

Not many people know that Rhys and Jack have been together for two years now. If they did, they would probably think twice before throwing money at the dancer, cheering him on to finally take off his top, or even demanding a private dance. Hitting on people Jack was interested in was considered a death wish.

One night, it actually got close to the bloodbath everyone would expect from the two. Handsome Jack rarely stayed when Rhys started dancing. Usually, he ordered a whiskey and left to his office or to his penthouse, not watching the gorgeous man all of the club was salivating for. But that night, he stayed and watched.

Rhys had it all planned out. His plan was elaborate, tracking back to one week ago when he stopped sleeping with Jack. Not even a kiss in the morning; he really cut off the boss’s supply of affection. And seven days later, he invited him personally for one of his shows.

His dance was always the centrepiece of the evening. Everybody has been waiting for him to walk on the stage, and even the blue and green eyes were fixed on him when he finally did. Jack rarely paid attention to the workers, but Rhys had _all_ of his attention now.

The dancer sensed the change in the atmosphere immediately. As Jack’s gaze studied every naked inch of his skin and came across the thin piece of cloth that could barely be called shorts, the material almost see-through and revealing much more than he usually did during his shows, his face hardened. Not even the shirt of a similar, thin material did much to cover his beautiful body, and the crowd was already cheering loudly.

The music started playing, some nameless song only good for this kind of dancing. And dance Rhys did, more provocative than ever. He made sure to wiggle his ass at the crowd under the stage, well-aware of the butt plug in his ass and even more aware that the people must have noticed. He went through the motions automatically, having practiced them enough in the past few days, and he counted the seconds.

 _Seventy-three_. Rhys leaned his back against the pole in the middle of the stage and started pulling his shirt up teasingly. _Seventy-eight_. The music stopped abruptly and most of the lights in the room went out.

Jack wasn’t yelling, but his voice resonated through the room as if he had been screaming. “Everybody out,” he ordered.

The club owner’s eyes were full of anger and his right hand was flexing and unflexing not far from the revolver strapped to his thigh. Some people believed that it’s fake, a fashion statement or something. Most didn’t. And everybody has seen the threat behind the movement.

The bar was completely empty within a minute. During that time, Rhys stayed rooted in place, heart beating fast and eyes fixed on the boss. Jack walked to him slowly, as if enjoying the fear on his face. He was in no rush to end his suffering. When the last person – the barman – left and closed the door, Jack effortlessly climbed up on the stage, stepping on one of the tables under it.

Rhys tried instinctively to take a step back, but the pole stopped him. He wanted to do a side-step, turn around and run the fuck away. He forgot about his seduction plan completely. Jack’s eyes, still full of anger, told him that the boss is out for blood. But before the dancer could make a move, a huge hand closed around his throat.

Jack’s voice was dark and breath smelled of alcohol as he spoke. “What. The hell. Was _that_ , Princess?” His grip on Rhys’ throat tightened, deterring him from answering. “You don’t even let me touch you lately, but you let everybody stare at you? Have you been _whoring around_ while you were giving me the cold shoulder?!” His grip tightens even more, and Rhys begins to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen. “News flash, Rhysie,” Jack growls, more of the rage seeping to the surface. “ _Handsome Jack doesn’t share_.”

Rhys would have crumpled to the ground the second Jack released his neck, but the boss held him up by roughly shoving one leg between the dancer’s and taking hold of his arm. With his free hand, he effortlessly tore Rhys’ top off, and while the younger man was still gasping and panting, he started groping him, touching all the skin he wasn’t allowed in the past week.

Giving him no time to make sense of his situation or get his breathing under control, Jack starts assaulting Rhys’ nipples with lips, teeth and fingers; pinching, twisting and biting until they are all puffy and red, and tears are streaming down Rhys’ face, little pained sounds slipping between his lips.

When he was finally satisfied with the torment, he took a step back, still keeping hold of one of Rhys’ arms to keep him up. He looked the young man up and down. Rhys’ face was flushed, wet from tears. His lips were pink and definitely needed more attention from the club owner. He filed it away for later and focused on the light red handprint on Rhys’ neck and his poor nipples. And then his gaze travelled lower, taking notice of his half-chub. If Jack didn’t know what he is looking for, he would miss the way Rhys’ knees parted and the dark glint in his eyes.

“You’re such a slut, Rhysie,” Jack smirks and pulls the boy forward, capturing his lips in a demanding kiss. He bites and tugs, and then forces his tongue inside, finally taking what is his.

But that’s not nearly enough. After a week of involuntary celibacy, Jack is not going to stop at that. One hand makes sure Rhys doesn’t try to stop him while the other starts tearing his shorts off. He ignores his partner’s dick and goes straight for the plug, tugging at it until it comes loose with a wet _plop_.

“Slut,” Jack grits through his teeth. “Who were you going to let fuck you, uh?!” He knows it is him, and he is curious whether Rhys would confess or try to lie, but watching hopelessness in Rhys’ eyes when he is not allowed to answer or fight for himself as Jack’s hands wrap around his throat, that’s much better. “I don’t care about your lies,” Jack spits out, kissing Rhys’ slack lips while applying more pressure.

Handsome Jack considers himself an expert on strangling people, and he knows exactly when to let Rhys up for air and when he is ready to continue. He keeps the dancer just a little dizzy, not interested in knocking him out too soon. When watching panic in the brown and blue eyes becomes boring, he releases Rhys and shoves him roughly to turn him around.

Instinctively, Rhys’ hands close around the pole to get some support. He keeps coughing and panting, fighting to get his breathing back under control. His throat aches and head spins. He feels the dizziness making him weaker, vulnerable. And his cock is aching hard between his legs.

Jack doesn’t waste more time. As soon as Rhys is breathing more or less like a normal person, he thrusts into his waiting asshole and knocks his breath out again. Rhys used a lot of lube for prepping tonight and a rather big plug, but the intrusion is _a lot_ anyway, almost too painful.

“You’re such a dirty slut, pumpkin,” Jack growls, immediately setting up a fast pace. “Dripping wet, loose, and spreading your legs for anyone.” His thrusts shake Rhys so much he almost hits his head on the pole, but Jack doesn’t stop, becoming more and more brutal with every insult he throws at the dancer, and Rhys just takes it.

“I should allow this, hmpff! Make a profit of it, _ah!_ ” Jack is nearing the finish too fast, but Rhys is hot and tight around him, and, _oh god_ , he can hear him sniffling, and Rhys even tries to wipe his tears on his shoulder, and Jack can only imagine how many there are on his face. Unable to resist, he pulls Rhys’ by his hair to face him. As expected, his face is all swollen, eyes red and full of tears. His lips are still red and puffy. He is beautiful.

“Disgusting whore,” Jack says.

Rhys gasps, eyes snapping open wide before falling closed. He tenses up, back arching and his ass milking Jack’s cock. The boss would laugh at what made the young man come untouched, but the sight is so hot it tips him over the edge, and he releases Rhys’ hair to grip his hips with both hands and bury himself to the hilt, filling him up.

When Jack pulls out, Rhys crumples to the floor, his sweat-covered body slipping from Jack’s hands. He kneels beside him immediately, still panting but hyper-focused on his partner. “Everything okay?” he asks, shaking Rhys’ shoulder lightly to make him look up.

The dancer nods, a small smile spreading on his face. Jack is not placated, though, knowing his boyfriend well enough. After a scene, Rhys is not fully out of it until he starts speaking. Right now, he is too deep in his head.

The _Ultra Bonus Diamond Gold suite_ of the club is theirs tonight, and Jack only grunts a little when he picks the younger man up and carries him to the private elevator. The door opens directly into the suit that takes up the whole floor, and Jack heads straight to the king size bed.

“Want something?” Jack asks, patting Rhys down gently as if searching for injury he knows he didn’t deal. “Water?” When Rhys nods, nuzzling his face into the silk bed covers, Jack reaches for the prepared water bottle on the nightstand and helps him drink some slowly.

“How ya feelin’?” he asks when Rhys goes back to dozing off. He only gets a vague hum as an answer and he can’t stop one chuckle, earning a pouty glare from his partner. “Wha’? You are cute, babe,” he explains himself.

Rhys gives up on pouting, closes his eyes and buries his face back into the pillows. He mumbles something sounding like _mmnhm-pffmlm_ (yeah, Jack has no idea what he said) and gestures to the nightstand.

“Chocolate?” Jack asks, knowing too well what that gesture means. Rhys nods, and so he pulls him into a sitting position and breaks off a big piece from a dark chocolate bar for Rhys to munch on.

After a few minutes, Rhys asks him for something on his sore throat, and while Jack searches for the calming spray, he knows they are back to their normal. “How are you feeling?” he asks after Rhys sprays a little more than the recommended dose to his throat.

“Fantastic,” the young man grins at him.

“You’re weird,” Jack scoffs and ruffles his hair.

“You’re weirder!” Rhys argues, laughing. “What made you come, huh? Me crying? The bruises? You sicko!”

“Hey! You came when I called you a whore! I wrack my brain thinking up sweet pet names for you while you’d much rather I’d call you names!”

They continue to banter, making fun of each other until exhaustion takes them both, and they cuddle up to each other under silky blankets, slowly falling asleep.

Just before the darkness takes him, Rhys speaks up again. “Thank you, Jack… This was fun.”

“Yeah? I enjoyed it too…” the club owner murmurs, sarcasm gone from his voice.

“So, same time next week?”

Rhys yelps when Jack pinches his butt cheek suddenly. “Mouthy brat!” Jack growls, pulling him into a tight hug so he can’t squirm away and tease him until Jack has no other option than to fuck him again, because he knows that’s exactly what Rhys would want to do, heedless to his abused ass and throat that will be out of commission for at least three days.

“Go to sleep!” Jack orders grumpily, and Rhys sticks his tongue out at him but gives up struggling, relaxing and falling asleep within minutes.

“Stupid twink,” Jack grumbles, but he strokes his boyfriend’s back with affection, and he can’t help himself but whisper a soft _I love you_ into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting).


End file.
